


letters from abroad

by amuk



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Letters, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28037067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: Claude had expected to miss Byleth when he went back to Almyra. It was a normal feeling, after all. What he wasn’t prepared for was how she’d haunt his every waking moment, how much he’d ache for even her letters. Waiting for five years was a piece of cake compared to these months.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Nader & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57
Collections: Claudeleth Zine





	letters from abroad

**Author's Note:**

> For Golden Dearest, a Claudeleth Zine! I wanted to do a little Claude pining for my piece.

A chilly breeze wafted through the royal library, carrying with it the warm scent of spice and roasted meat. Nose in his book, Claude stared blankly at the page for a long moment as he registered the new smells, the sensation of cold wind blowing through his hair. His nose twitched. Looking up, he was taken aback by how dark it was in the library. Outside, strings of lanterns lit up the street markets, their glow barely visible from the library’s windows. The smells were both familiar and strange; it had been too long since he’d eaten proper Almyran food and the thought of it made him homesick. Even though he was home now, it would take some time for his body to adjust.

“It’s that late already?” Claude murmured, setting down his book and pinching the top of his nose. On the table in front of him, several books lay open, their contents barely touched. Beside them were several letters from Byleth, the latest one still waiting for a response. When he had come back to Almyra, he had known it would be a long, hard climb to the top.

What he hadn’t expected was the amount of studying he’d have to do. It felt like he spent more time here learning than he’d ever done at the academy. The politics in the region had changed in the years he’d spent abroad, each alteration transforming other smaller areas. Politics was about dealing with those webs of connections. It was what made it exciting.

It was also what made it _exhausting_.

Once more, a cool wind ruffled his hair and despite himself, Claude shivered. The nights in the Almyran main castle were nothing at all like its days, the warmth of the sun long gone once the moon showed its face. His stomach rumbled and he chuckled. “Alright, alright, I get it. Time for a break.”

No one replied as he got up, his chair scraping on the wooden floor. There were no “Finally! I wonder what’s in the kitchen?” from Raphael, no stony glares from Lysithea as she tried and failed to concentrate, no smug smirks from Lorenz as he got up a second later. No, here there was only silence. Not even the servants wanted to be seen with the outcast from Fódlan.

Claude had expected as much when he’d made his decision. And yet…stuttering Marianne, more comfortable with horses than people. Ignatz and his secret paintings. Leonie, willing to challenge anyone, anytime. Hilda and her many schemes that miraculously kept her from doing any work.

Byleth. His throat caught at that last one, at that last memory. The late nights they’d spend in the library, plotting out the course of the war. As skilled as she was at war, she was less proficient with long-term strategies. More often than not, he’d look up from his notes to find her fast asleep on his right, her breathing shallow, ink smudging her cheeks.

The seat on his right was empty now. The library was empty. They were all in Fódlan, and he was here in Almyra. Seven years ago, he had left behind everything and everyone he’d known for a brand-new world.

Somehow, the journey back was even harder than he’d planned.

-x-

“Khalid.”

It took Claude five seconds to realize that Nader was talking to him. Chuckling, he released his notched arrow, striking his target slightly off-centre. Done with practice for the day, he slung his bow over his shoulder and turned around. “Ha ha, I have to get used to hearing that, don’t I?”

Standing behind him, Nadar guffawed. “Don’t let your mother hear that. She picked your name, after all.”

Despite the hot, afternoon sun, Claude shivered. He’d seen enough destruction left in his mother’s wake to know what that entailed. “I have enough of a challenge without the demon chasing me.”

“Don’t let her hear that either.” Coming closer now, he ruffled Claude’s hair affectionately. No matter how much he’d grown, Claude felt like a child at that touch. Nader’s hand was always impossibly big and warm. “Are you missing all of your targets now, or just that one?”

“Can’t get perfect all the time, you never know who’s watching.” Ducking away from Nader’s reach, he patted his disarrayed hair back into place. “It takes a lot of skill to purposely miss. Even more than it takes to reach the center.”

Nader’s brow rose. “Does it now?”

“It does.” Claude rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “I don’t think you came all the way to the training grounds to discuss my archery?”

Nader chuckled once more. “No, but maybe I should consider it.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a thin letter. “This arrived this morning, for you. I made sure to take it before any of your siblings spotted it.”

Claude tried not to smile too much as he took it. “Thanks.”

As expected, the writing on the front was in Byleth’s hand. For a second, he traced out his name on the letter, his finger hovering over the dried ink. It was a good thing they were alone out here. He could feel his expression softening automatically. It had been too long since her last letter. Carefully, reverently, he tucked it into his shirt.

“You’re not going to read it?” Nader asked, surprised. The older man stroked his ragged beard. “I thought you’d tear it open immediately.”

“Oh?” Claude smirked suggestively, leaning closer to his former teacher. “Are you that curious about my love life? I didn’t think you were that kind of person, Nader. I mean, I thought it’d be better to read this in private—don’t want anyone to get too hot and bothered by it, but if you want to hear all the sordid details…” He trailed off meaningfully and winked.

“You certainly have grown.” Nader guffawed once more, his laugh like a bear’s grunt, before wrapping an arm around Claude’s shoulders and squeezing him tight. “I’ll leave you alone. Got enough saucy tales of my own without adding yours to it.”

-x-

“What do you want?” Direct as ever, his half-sister reclined regally on her plush seat and regarded him. A perfectly arched brow rose and she crossed her legs. “Well?”

“What makes you think I want anything?” Claude replied, an easy smile on his face. His hands were clasped behind his erect back, his shoulders relaxed. He wanted to paint a disarming picture. It was always easier when your opponent looked down on you.

Unfortunately, while he had a lot practice with Lorenz, his sister wasn’t buying it. “Khalid, since when do you approach others unless you need something?” She rested her chin on her hand, her long, painted fingers tapping her cheek. “The only question left is what are you willing to pay for it?”

Claude chuckled softly, mirth colouring his tone as he played along. “I can’t pull anything over you, can I?”

There were rules to politics, rules that kept you safe, that let you take advantage of others, that let others take advantage of you. A charming smile kept others at bay. Words had to mean nothing and everything. It was easier to give a fake weakness than to reveal a real one.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of blue and his words died in his throat. She hadn’t needed any of that, had she? Effortlessly, Byleth had charmed all of Garreg Mach. Even though her smile had been a rarity. Even though her weaknesses were open for all to see. Even though her words were ever honest.

The new Fódlan she was building…his hand twitched. He wanted to see it. A world where merit trumped lineage. Where borders meant nothing. He wanted to see it. He wanted to see _her_.

“Khalid?”

He forced himself to look in front of him, away from that flash of blue and his scattered thoughts. “Sorry, I was just feeling overwhelmed. It’s not every day I get to trade words with the crown princess, after all.”

-x-

It was only by candlelight that Claude allowed himself to read Byleth’s letter. In the privacy of his quarters, alone and away from prying eyes, if only so no one could see the soft curve of his lips as he pulled out her letter once more. He’d kept each and every one, though by now the letters were so well-worn they were barely legible.

At one point, he imaged her letters must have smelled like her, all rainwater and pine needles. Now, they only carried the scent of dust and horses from the thousands of miles it had travelled to reach him. The flame flickered as he opened the envelope, casting long shadows on him as he unfolded the sheets of paper. Her writing was as concise as ever, each word written compactly to save room. It was the way of the mercenary, the way of her father.

_Hi Claude_.

And now, the way of Byleth. Claude chuckled as he read the first line in the letter. It seemed even time and distance couldn’t improve her skills. “No dear? I’m hurt.”

_As I thought, it is difficult to rebuild a nation. Particularly when we have lost the majority of our leaders_.

“As straight to the point as ever,” he murmured softly, his eyes lowering. How many friends had they lost in this war? His classmates, his peers—each death had weighed heavier than the last. Could he have saved any of them? His smiles only held power in the castle; outside, they were nothing. Dimitri had rejected his hand outright, revenge blinding him and his house to all other possibilities.

And Edelgard…

Byleth had trembled after she’d killed the Emperor, her jaw tight as she watched her head roll. He wondered if she replayed that scene in her head. If she dreamed of that sword, of the weight of it.

He still couldn’t look at the colour red the same.

His grip tightened, crinkling the paper. “Whoops, can’t have that,” he said glibly, forcing himself out of his thoughts. Claude flattened the paper, smoothening out the wrinkles. “These are going to be family heirlooms, after all.”

Hubert would have made fun of him for that. A starry-eyed Dorothea would have called it romantic. Slyly, Sylvain might have swapped love stories. In the future, he hoped no one would know this dull ache that throbbed in his chest or the heavy lump in his throat.

At least his house had made it through, unscathed. Especially Hilda; Byleth’s every other sentence for the next two paragraphs were about her and her exploits: a children’s book with Seteth, charming the pants off every noble she encountered, and starting a fashion line. And Claude had thought he was accomplished. Ignatz was painting and Raphael visited his sister and for all the sorrow the war had caused, there was joy too.

Claude read Byleth’s letter unhurriedly, savouring each word. News from Fódlan was hard to get here, news of his friends even more so. Yet, no matter how slowly he read, the end came all too soon.

_Progress is slow, but steady. Come back soon,_

_Byleth_

Her usual final words. It was never ‘I love you’ or ‘I miss you’, just ‘Come back soon’. He wondered how Byleth looked when she penned them, if she sat alone in her room just as he did his, carefully picking out each word as though he were searching for jewels in the dirt. Claude pressed his fingers against _Come back soon_ , remembering the feel of her rough hands. Her soft lips. She had only recently remembered how to smile.

He hoped she wouldn’t forget before he came back.

It was funny. Claude had made it through five years without her, five long years buoyed only by his belief that she’d back. Byleth had shown him miracles and he knew she’d show him one last one, that someone like her wouldn’t just die like that.

Now, he knew exactly where she was, knew exactly how to reach her, and he could barely make it through a few months without wanting to run back to her arms. He’d lost the ability to do without her. Utterly, completely lost it.

“When I get back, you’d better be ready,” Claude whispered, reaching into his tunic and pulling out a fine silver chain. Dangling off it, her ring glinted in the candlelight. It glittered full of the promises of tomorrow.

In the middle of the night, tomorrow felt like a long way off. He could only hope she missed him half as much as he missed her.


End file.
